The Turnpike Road
by Ryoken
Summary: Rating may change as the story is updated. Carmen Castillo, an LA cop, was just on a road trip to visit her boyfriend when she finds herself trying to prove that Deekin is a man in an elaborate costume and her new friend is simply a LARPing enthusiast.


I apologize in advance if how I have portrayed Spanish/Mexican/Native American culture is inaccurate and/or offensive to anyone reading this; I'm making do with what I do know of it and trying to "expand my horizons" in terms of character creation. But please do enjoy the story being presented to you from my long hiatus. *tries to think of a more appropriate penname…*

I also hope the intro isn't too boring, I know it isn't terribly exciting yet.

Disclaimer: I don't own a lot of the stuff mentioned in this chapter and chapters following it. Just the characters that are obvious, like Carmen.

The Turnpike Road

By Ryoken

Carmen Castillo tried to keep her focus on the road more than the stray thoughts that kept creeping their way into her mind; an inattentive driver on a perilous cliff-side road could easily spell death for anyone, even if the driving conditions were optimal.

Of course, she supposed it didn't help much that she was gliding along on her Kawasaki motorcycle. Perhaps not the most obvious choice for an off-duty L.A. cop, but she much preferred it to the patrol cars she was forced to ride around in during work. The whole "wind flowing through her hair" thing wasn't quite what she enjoyed about it, though; it left her unruly black curls a mess with or without a helmet on. Still, she did find it to be quite exhilarating not having steel surrounding her as she soared down highways and freeway.

Hazel eyes tried to blink away the thoughts continually nagging at the back of her head, excitement threatening to absently force her into increasing her speed. She had finally gotten some time off from working at the station after a recent crime wave had settled down, and was on the road to visit her boyfriend, William, for a few days, who lived practically on the other side of the States. She originally wanted to buy a plane ticket in order to spend as much time as possible with him, but somehow she had been talked into taking a road trip there instead.

It had been her sister who suggested it, and her mother who had encouraged it, which Carmen found a little disconcerting. Ángelina, or Angel as her younger sister preferred to be called, had suggested the idea when Carmen mentioned the trip in passing for her vacation, telling her that she should drive there. After that, she had gone into a lengthy story about one of her friend's cousins or whomever it was, that had done so and found the experience enlightening. Or maybe it was that they enjoyed meeting "cute" strangers along the way; whatever the case may have been, for Carmen found herself quite disinterested in the on goings of her sister's "friends", her mother had further enforced the idea, a surprising turn of events, in Carmen's mind.

It helped that her mother was a little behind the times, she would admit, especially when it came to her beloved motorcycle. She argued enough with her "Ángelita", a nickname her sister secretly hated at times, but she had actively urged Carmen into driving there, in her own way…

"You should listen to your sister this time, Carmen," her mother had said curiously when Carmen had mentioned Angel's idea one night during a visit. The older woman was a bit plump, mostly from her strong love of cooking, and about half a foot shorter than either of her two daughters, which was saying something as Carmen, the tallest, only reached about 5'3. She had the same dark tresses as her mother and her eyes were a dark, but soft brown and always cheery. Light brown-skinned hands had been kneading a dish rag against wet dishes and silverware, drying them the old-fashioned way.

"_Mama_, I know you don't think airplanes are all that safe, but-" Carmen had tried to argue, but instead of the usual argument and gentle persuasion that the police officer would use soon afterwards, the woman had put down the dish towel and raised a hand in front of her, a signal for her daughter to stop.

"I know that you are going to try and tell me that those big fancy airplanes are perfectly fine to travel around in," she'd said, her voice rich with the accent of her Spanish descent, a fact that she tried to emulate in the decoration of her small, but cozy home. "But do this one thing for me, _mija_, for your father."

Something about the seriousness in her mother's face, and the way she had mentioned her deceased father, had given her a different perspective about the trip. She had an idea as to what she was implying, of course; that she should drive there with the idea of it being one of those profound "spiritual journeys" that were part of her father's culture, he being of Native American descent. And she had been proven right when her mother had later on given her something of her father's to take with her.

The ancient and worn little doll was something she was surprised to be given. It was one of the few items her father refused to allow his two children to play with, despite it being an item made for a little girl. She had simply assumed that the doll was just too old to be played with anymore, despite that the only thing that seemed wrong with it was the fact that its once-vibrant colors were a mesh of dirty grey, or that perhaps it held some sort of value.

Either way, as the Latino woman sped down the little road, the cliff gradually turning into a hill, a canopy of trees engulfing her, Carmen had to admit that so far the trip had been really worth it. The scenery was some of the most beautiful she had seen, compared to the city life of Los Angeles, and for once, she managed to begin relax.

As she eased her body into a turn, a man-made tunnel loomed in the distance in the shadow of the trees up against a small mountain. When she came closer to it, she noticed that there was an abandoned toll booth ahead, its mechanism having long since been settled into an upright position, allowing any to pass beneath it. It became clearer to her as she continued to draw near that it must have been that way for some time as there were plenty of visible signs that the forest was attempting to retake the small concrete booth.

Feeling the spot to be picturesque, she slowed down the bike to a stop a yard or two from the toll booth itself and swung her backpack off her shoulders to better fish around inside for her camera. While Carmen wasn't much of a photographer, not to mention the fact that she hardly was one for taking vacation pictures, there was something about it that made her want a picture to remember the mountain pass by. Taking out her digital camera, the little doll accidently fell out of her pack to the ground.

"_Mierda_…" She murmured beneath her helmet, bending to the side awkwardly with a grunt to scoop up the little doll from atop her motorcycle.

As she brought the toy up from where it fell, she lifted it up to her face, studying it for the first time in years. It was the figure of a female, its cloth skin and plain dress grayed with old dirt and time. Black tresses made from similar strips of linen were worn with age, the color faded, and two spherical button eyes shone out from the head. There were no other features on the doll's face, however, making it difficult to tell if it was supposed to look happy or sad. But what she realized then was that the doll didn't really appear to be something Native American, nor Spanish. The doll's general make just seemed like something created by someone who was born to poverty, using whatever they had, which probably wasn't much to begin with.

With a mental shrug, Carmen placed the doll carefully back into her pack where it wouldn't be damaged by all of the other things she had taken with her. After taking the picture of the toll booth and making certain she was happy with it, she stuck it back into her backpack and cranked the pedal-handle, more than happy to be off down the dark and unlit tunnel before her.

The tunnel itself was quite a bit longer than she expected, the end being only a speck upon entering. As the sound of her motorcycle bounced off the close quarters in a roar such as only a Ninja Kawasaki could make, the cop ignored the small bumps she began to experience. She could only assume that the rough trek was a result of the decaying highway, as implied by the toll booth.

Not wanting to run into something unexpected, however, Carmen flipped the switch that would turn on her headlight. The bright beam illuminating the road as it flew beneath her, the woman was too focused on her meandering thoughts and the sunlight ahead of her to notice that the distinguishing yellow lines of the road were nowhere in sight, but she did take notice that the road seemed to be getting bumpier and smaller in that the walls were gradually coming closer together with the way they were made. When the walls became so close that not even a car would have been able to pass through comfortably, she began to get suspicious, thinking that perhaps she had taken a wrong turn somewhere. Nearing the end of the tunnel, however, she thought it best to at least make certain that she was on the right track.

What she was met with as she began to slow down to a stop was something she had not been expecting. At the end of the tunnel, the tumultuous road ended in a dirt path, the same size as the one in the tunnel. Spread out before her, however, was no longer the green trees of a picturesque forest, but a hardened landscape, the dirt road overlaying hills that seemed much more as though in the throes of late summer or autumn than that of spring. The trees near the exit, for there were indeed a few, were different than the ones she'd passed by on her way in; Carmen was no gardener, but she could tell that it wasn't the same species.

Lifting the sun-guard of her helmet so that she could get a better look around, she paused for a moment, frowning in confusion as she took in the sudden change in scenery.

"Great, I'm lost," she sighed. Normally, the cop was quite good with maps and directions, and in a city like L.A., not having a sense of where you were tended to get you lost quite easily and often. She once more pulled her pack in front of her, searching for the map she'd bought before her trip. Unfolding it and trying to keep it from blowing away in the steady, but gentle breeze, she traced her finger along the route she knew she'd taken, all the way until she met with the highway. According to her map, however, once she'd gotten on that road, there were no turns to speak of for quite a long ways, and she hadn't been traveling on the dangerous cliff-side road for more than thirty minutes. She lifted her head, shoulders slumping as she sat back and looked around the odd scenery.

"Well, maybe I'll find someone who can tell me if I'm on the right track…if there's anyone who actually lives out here," she said quietly to herself, refolding the map and stuffing it back into her backpack. With a readjustment to her helmet, she was off down the dirt path, keeping her speed slow so as not to hit a bump that would send her flying.

As she rode down the road, the yellow-green grass on either side of her, a forest on one side of the field only a dozen paces away, and open space on the other, the woman thought that perhaps she was hearing things as the sound of familiar birds became mixed up with that of the engine. She looked up and off into the distance of the field beside her and noticed the white seagulls soaring about, calling out to each other.

Carmen was no bird expert either, but seagulls meant that she would be near the ocean…which was impossible. True, she was certain that sometimes a stray seagull might go inland and be seen from time to time, but this wasn't just one seagull. It was a whole flock of them. With the investigative quality that came with the job of being a cop, she pulled over and turned off the engine, intending to find out just what was over those hills. Seeing as there were no fences to block off the area to mark it as private property or even a guard rail for vehicles, it made the trek through the high grass in her black jeans, combat boots, and leather jacket and gloves quite easy.

She was in for another startling surprise when she crested the first hill. A few more hills full of the same wheat-colored grass stood between her and the shore of what seemed to be either a very, very large lake, or the ocean itself. Most likely it was the ocean, however, as he noted the salt-licked smell of the water brought up from the wind blowing across the hills; even with her helmet on, she could smell the familiar scent in the air. Now she knew she must have taken a wrong turn somewhere because there wasn't supposed to be a body of water for miles along her route. At least, there wasn't supposed to be anything this large, anyway. And the sun…what was it doing setting already? It was only noon. Carmen looked down at her watch, tapping it once, then twice, and then let out a heavy sigh. Turning on her heel to make her way back down the incline, she began to suspect that this was the weirdest day of her entire life, and that was saying something.

The reason she began along this line of thinking was not just because of the previous turn of events but also because of the strangely-dressed person, for Carmen couldn't discern through the armor, helm and distance the gender of said being, closely examining her motorcycle. He, or she, was a good half foot taller than her, garbed in a shirt of chainmail with hardened leather covering the rest of the body, gloves and boots included. A cloak that matched the surrounding wild grass draped behind the figure, the fringes of which billowed gently in the breeze. A single short sword was belted at the hip and a bow and quiver were strapped to the person's back. A helm finished the outfit, obscuring any view of the person's face.

"Excuse me, could you step away from the vehicle, please?" The cop shouted as she let gravity increase her momentum down the hill in a sort of skipping motion, wanting to reach her ride in case the person was thinking of stealing her only means of transportation. To her surprise, the suspect in question abruptly lifted their head and backed up a few paces, hands lifted in the air unthreateningly.

"Do forgive my prying eyes, my lady, but in all my life, I have never seen a machination of such tinkering. It is most astonishing, and I simply had to have a closer look," the man, for indeed the voice emanating from inside the helm was male, said, sweeping into a bow.

The woman stared at him from beneath her riding helmet, glad that the stranger couldn't see the look of incredulity on her features as she approached, a bit slower than she originally was as she eyed the short sword strapped to his waist.

"Uh, right…Do you…Do you live around here, sir?" She asked, trying to keep from being overwhelmed. Carmen was never really interested in the whole medieval thing that some people fantasized over. So while this encounter would make for an amusing story back at the station, the sooner she had directions to where she needed to go and could be on her way, the better.

"Here? No, my lady. My companion and I are simply passing through on our way to Waterdeep," he said, motioning one hand to someone unseen beside and to the front of him, hidden by the motorcycle. "I am Althalos Sunarrow, and this little fellow is Deekin."

Carmen was about to try and steer the conversation away from small talk and back to the matter at hand when the strangest creature stood up from its hiding place beside her motorcycle, startling her. Her brain momentarily shut down as it tried to process how this realistic looking thing which was named Deekin could possibly be alive and surmised for the moment that it simply an extremely well-made puppet, the puppeteer obviously hidden on the other side of her bike. With the scaly features she could see, Carmen couldn't help but take two steps back, easing her feet against the beginning of the incline.

The woman managed to find her voice again, as well as her train of thought. "Uh, hi, nice to meet you, folks. I'm Officer Castillo, maybe you could give me some directions?" With the frame of mind people usually had when they knowingly dealt with police officers, she figured that they would snap out of character long enough to act like the normal human beings that they were and begin putting the knot in her stomach and the confusion in her head at ease.

Carmen was not to have any such luck, however.

The little creature looked down at something the policewoman couldn't quite see, but it appeared as though he were writing something, reptilian-like lips moving quietly as though he was speaking to himself.

"Of course, my lady. We would be more than happy to oblige. Where is it that you are going?" The man asked.

Figuring that he wasn't going to drop the act, and technically he wasn't under any obligation to, either, she came up closer to the motorcycle and swung her pack off her shoulder, resting it on the seat of her bike to better reach the map. Such an action, however, caused Deekin to squeak in surprise and he moved back behind Althalos, trying very much to be forgotten by this new lady, peering at her warily. The kobold's invisibility was not to be, either, for the movement caught her attention, and while her face could not be seen behind the encompassing helmet on her head, it was obvious by the direction she was looking in and the map halfway lifted from her backpack that she was staring at the kobold.

"How…how are you doing that?" She said, having lost her voice a second time. There was no puppeteer, and there certainly weren't any strings; the creature was moving far too independently for that. And it couldn't have been someone wearing a costume. The kobold seemed much too skinny, not to mention the way his legs were shaped; like a quadruped, only he, obviously, was standing on two legs.

Although Carmen had been addressing Althalos, it was Deekin who answered, since it was him she was staring at. "Deekin not knows what strange lady means. How be Deekin doings what?" The bard tilted his head slightly, curious despite his uneasiness.

Now Carmen, being the trained cop that she was, was not about to jump to some delusional conclusion about not being in Kansas anymore. Although she wasn't exactly a pureblooded skeptic about spirits and the hereafter, she was a police officer, and one day hoped to make the rank of detective. As such, she had trained herself to be objective, and accepted the idea that everything could be explained through careful reasoning. And when she couldn't explain something, she would ask a fellow officer for their view.

Of course, there were no other officers within range for her to ask, and she certainly had no way to explain how this Deekin character could walk, move, and talk all without any help that she could ascertain. It simply didn't make sense to her.

"Uhm…you know what, nevermind." And so the only explanation Carmen's fizzling mind could come up with was, _It's probably one of those magician tricks, where they can't reveal how it's done. Yeah, that's it._

"Anyway," she said, prying her eyes away from the kobold to the map in her hand. She opened it, spreading it out over the seat of the bike for Althalos to see, not wanting to sidle up next to him and be closer to Deekin.

Though the man had remained respectfully silent during the odd exchange, his interest and focus grew when he saw the intricate details of the map, grazing a hand gently across the crisp paper with a gloved hand.

"This is quite the chart you have, my lady, truly. But-," the man paused, his hands lifting to either side of his helm as he gently slid it off of his head. Platinum locks of hair spilled out to the sides of his fair face, most of the silky mane tied back in a loose pony tail where the tips ended at the small of his back. Crystal sky-blue eyes stared intensely at the map, looking it over carefully to ensure his assertions were correct. "-I don't believe this is a correct map of the area," he finished, the elf's voice unintentionally alluring once unobstructed by the metal of his helm. As he lifted kind eyes to Carmen's helmet-covered one, the woman noted that the male had pointy ears. She had to admit, she never thought she would actually meet a man who dressed up as an elf and actually looked good doing it. The quality of the costume was surprisingly good too; it all looked incredibly realistic, the sword perhaps a bit too much so.

"What, uh…what do you mean?" She said, taken a bit off-guard yet again.

Althalos smiled at her and then brushed the fingertips of one hand across the paper, eyes downcast. "I am no expert when it comes to charts, but I am quite sure that I do not recognize anything indicated on this map, my lady-," He pointed to a number placed over a freeway. "-such as these numbers. What do they mean? Surely whatever swindler sold you this chart must have had quite the silver tongue." He looked back up at her, smiling again as he straightened.

Carmen straightened as well, sighing quietly in exasperation. As handsome and chivalrous as this man seemed to be, he wasn't being of much help to her. She took up the map, trying not to show her agitation and began folding it to replace it within her bag, intending to announce her departure when Althalos spoke up again.

"Why don't we take you to Waterdeep, Officer Castillo?" The way the elf said her name and rank felt very odd to Carmen's ears. Not alarming or suspicious, just different. "We can find you a real map of the area there, and the roads are no safe place for any traveler by themselves."

"Oh, no, it's alright, Mr. Sunarrow. Just point me in the right direction and I can make it from here," Carmen replied. She didn't have any camping gear with her, since she had intended to spend the nights in hotels; she wasn't much of a camping sort of person. Plus, she wanted to get away from the strange man and his mysterious friend. It was unsettling.

"I mean not to insult your prowess, my lady, but these woods are certain to hold many dangers, bandits included. I would never forgive myself if something happened when I could have been there to make a difference." Again, that disarming smile was drawn on his features. "And night is almost upon us; you wouldn't be able to make it there in time unless this machine of yours has the ability to teleport you there."

The policewoman found it extremely odd that this man wanted to escort her to a made-up town and find her a map of a made-up place. But with the way the scenery had changed so dramatically, and not to mention the sun setting instead of being high in the sky, perhaps not being alone was a good piece of advice for the time being.

"Sir, that's a motorcycle," she stated matter-of-factly, as though that would explain everything. "And…I suppose it is getting dark. You're sure there isn't a hotel, even a crappy one, nearby?"

The elf shook his head slightly, an eyebrow lifting in confusion. "Erm, if I am to guess as to what you're referring, no. The closest is Waterdeep, and that is a good half day's horse ride from here." Tucking away the information of what the device was for later conversation, the elf turned and began walking up the hill he'd come from, towards the forest, Deekin following close behind as he continued jotting down notes, speaking in whispers to himself, or perhaps to Althalos.

Carmen shook her head as she lifted the kickstand with a foot and began walking her bike off the path after him. What was turning into a laughable story to pass around the police station was growing more into something she'd keep to herself for fear of never being able to live it down. But she felt confident that even if this Althalos turned out to have ill-intentions, that she could take care of herself.

They came to a stop not very far into the forest itself, Althalos's explanation being that they would be easy targets if they made camp out in the open. The grassy hillside and even the dirt road were easily recognizable from where they were; having them in sight was a small comfort for Carmen.

As the two companions set about making their camp, the policewoman couldn't help but stare at Deekin again as she went about putting her motorcycle somewhere easily accessible, but not so out in the open, as per Althalos's suggestion. With that settled, the woman unhitched the belt of her helmet and pried it off, her head of frizzy, tight, black curls falling to rest on her back, which she promptly ran a hand through to stretch out the cramped roots. When she rejoined the others, Deekin was still scribbling on his paper and Althalos was trying to start a fire.

"Here, let me get that," Carmen said, digging into a pocket of her jeans and fishing out a lighter she used on the rare occasions that she smoked. Curious, the elf leaned back from his kneeling position and watched with widened eyes as a flame lit itself in her hand on the device.

"Are you an inventor or a sorcerer, my lady?" He asked, his bright eyes held fast to the lighter as she easily lit the debris and then safely tucked it back into her pocket. Carmen shook her head slightly, the fire's light dancing off the darkly tanned skin of her face.

"No, sir, I'm just your ordinary cop," Carmen's gaze finally settled back on the little kobold scribbling away as she sat down, making herself comfortable. "I'm pretty sure you're not gunna tell me, but I gotta ask; is that a costume or a puppet, or, what? Because it's a damn good trick."

Although a dozen and more questions were spinning in his head at the time, Althalos put them aside to answer as he was becoming more confused by the second with this woman. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"The, uh, I don't even know what he is, Deekin."

The elf raised an eyebrow. "Deekin is a kobold. And I still do not understand the question, my lady." Deekin, who was the topic of the conversation yet again, seemed oblivious for the moment, far too busy making sure that he managed to jot down as much information as he could. Althalos, not wanting to waste all of their time simply talking placed his pack on the ground, looking for the last of their food reserves.

Carmen sighed quietly again.

"I mean, is Deekin a puppet or is that someone in a costume? Either way, your guys' performance has been outstanding, really, I applaud you." She tried to smile, to show that she wasn't trying to be condescending.

Deekin spoke up before Althalos could reply in a more patient manner.

"Deekin's not be puppet!! Boss be way too nice to Deekin for that," he answered, obviously taking her meaning wrong. He looked down at his meager clothing for a moment before continuing. "Deekin not think Deekin's clothes look like costume…Does they, Boss?"

The elf smiled at him comfortingly. "No, Deekin, of course not." He turned back to Carmen, frowning as his brow creased slightly. "I assure you, good woman, we are no performers, and before you insult our hospitality further, let me put to rest your concerns about us being swindlers as well," he said, his tone stern.

Carmen cringed. While she still believed that Deekin and Althalos were anything but what they appeared to be, she hadn't had any intention to insult them.

"I'm sorry; I wasn't trying to be rude, I was just curious," she said, the fire becoming incredibly fascinating. The elf softened his gaze and gave a slight nod, tearing his eyes away from the woman to look inside his pack for the food and, finally finding it, brought it out.

"I suppose I can understand the idea of a kobold for a companion to be strange to most people." He held out a piece of dried jerky to Carmen, who looked at it and shook her head.

"No, thanks, I ate recently."

Althalos shrugged quietly, handing the piece to Deekin instead, who took it absently as he wrote.

Now it was the elf's turn to ask a question before Carmen could ask something else that was equally confusing.

"What does this 'motorcycle' of yours do, precisely?"

The policewoman groaned inwardly. Having to explain how a vehicle worked to someone who knew damn well what it was wasn't how she wanted to spend her evening.

"It's a fast means of transportation," Carmen replied flatly.

The elf glanced towards the direction of the machine for a moment in understanding; it made sense.

"Ah, I see. Then what is a 'cop', my lady? I've never heard the word before now."

Carmen was beginning to lose her appetite for the conversation.

"I'm law enforcement."

"Law enforcement? You are a guard, then?"

"A guard…yeah, sure." If it would put his questions to rest, the woman would agree to whatever assumptions the strange man had.

"Then may I ask where you are from, my lady?"

"Would you stop calling me that?"

Althalos blinked in surprise at the sudden change in topic. "Stop calling you what?"

"'My lady'. Just…call me 'Carmen', alright?" She said, trying not to let her temper lash out. It had been a long day, or half day, or whatever had happened, and the mundane questions were simply frustrating her more.

He simply nodded. "If that is your wish. Again, I ask, where are you from, Carmen?"

"L.A."

He lifted an eyebrow curiously. "L…A? I don't understand."

This time her sigh was very audible. "It's short for Los Angeles." Not wanting to incite further nonsensical questions, the woman turned on her seat of grass to face the forest, and then lay down on her side, her back to the fire, a clear signal that she no longer wished to speak.

Althalos still had many questions for her, such as questions about this town of "L.A.". In all his adventures, he had never heard of such a place, though he imagined that surely, there many other places he had never heard of before. Still, he was certain that this woman wasn't ordinary by the way she dressed and spoke, and certainly her incredible devices were a strong hint to that fact; if he weren't an honorable elf and ranger, he might be tempted to simply steal all those wondrous contraptions for himself. Something was obviously bothering her, but he would let his other questions fester, for now.

With a hand patting the kobold on the shoulder, Althalos stood up, picking up his helm along the way.

"Get some rest, Deekin; I'll take the first watch."

"Okay, Boss."

Whether or not he truly heard him, the ranger couldn't say; the bard would go to sleep eventually, either through exhaustion of writing or by the ranger's own persuasive methods, as he did every night. At the very least, having the first watch would allow Althalos to better form his inquiries towards Carmen in the morning.


End file.
